


World in My Eyes

by vampirecult



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: ... everything-repressed grimmel tbh, ... the only two personality traits grimmel has, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Banter, Character Study, Childhood Trauma (mentioned), Depeche Mode References, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Repressed Grimmel, Gothic, Historical Inaccuracy, Inspired by Music, One-Sided Attraction, Other, POV First Person, Pretentious, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Uneasy Allies, Unresolved Emotional Tension, WELL to be fair he also has a pretty good sense of humor, and my ambitious need for a large overarching plot, gender neutral reader, gonna try and keep reader as neutral as possible! won't be using any gendered descriptors, if u can even call it that, loosely follow the plot of hidden world but is significantly altered due to reader's presence, only at first! grimmel takes his sweet time....
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampirecult/pseuds/vampirecult
Summary: Grimmel the Grisly. A sharp thorn of ingenuity, floating like a Cimmerian shade above the rest of the world. He is an omniscient vulture, detachedly assessing what is and isn't worth his involvement. If there is nothing to be gained from an interaction, it does not attract his attention.Perhaps it would be interesting, then, to consider why someone of his acumen decided to twist the hand of fate.What you extend mercy towards is beholden to you; that sentiment only grows heavier the longer you involve yourself. It would be irresponsible to consider an act of mercy unimportant, more so if it involves the life of another. Saviors often forget themselves when acting out a rescue, but the impact on their souls can be just as life-changing.





	World in My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i took one mcfuckin look at Longface Vampireman and had one thought: did they really cast peter murphy from bauhaus in this film? isn't this guy in an old goth band??? so i was instilled with an unholy need to go on this music-inspired journey with grimmel and the reader. 
> 
> this fic as a whole was sparked by these songs in particular: world in my eyes by depeche mode and within you by david bowie. chapter titles will be named after songs / will influence the plot somewhat as well, so give those a glance if you want! thanks for giving my fic a chance, and happy trails!

_Crystallised_   
_My lungs were frozen, exhale my last breath_   
_Demise_   
_I'll close my eyes and sleep forever_

[(Choke, Mr. Kitty)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcFQmQ_PkOw)

 

* * *

 

Regret is a simple word. Too faint for what I felt, too small to accurately describe my situation. It would do better to describe the consequences of it. The twitching in my muscles, the numbness creeping up my sides, the pull of the abyss as my consciousness spiraled downwards. My head was certain to explode any moment. Every throbbing pulse that ran through my body was more painful than the last. The gash on my temple was absolutely _pissing_ blood and begged for attention. I could feel the numb heat of expiration wrap around me. My voice long ago ceased to work, all the screams replaced with harsh hisses and weak yelps.

The body is capable of a great many things. Punctuality is one of its strongest skills when it comes to pain, always ready to deliver acknowledgement to the brain. All I could do was hope my pain receptors faded before I did. A likely scenario, as circulation was becoming a chore. Pins and needles wrapped their prickly claws around my extremities. Sweat beaded on my forehead, crawled down my frostbitten cheeks and dripped silently to a puddle on the deck below. How anyone could sweat in the freezing, dry climate of the Northern seas was a marvel. Maybe not as much of a marvel to _me_ , given I was hanging upside down and tied to the mast of my own Gods-blasted ship.

Think of this as an "I bet you’re wondering how I got here" moment, just devoid of _any and all_ humor. The past hour would be routine to any sea-faring Viking. This was nothing more than a chronic malady of the trade. If I had come out of it relatively unscathed, I would have forgotten it within the next week. I was usually competent when faced with a threat. In past battles, I’ve been able to quell an enemy’s ire long enough to escape or fight my own way out. However, no such feat was performed on this occasion. The opposing Vikings came like bats out of the Underworld and descended upon my small hunting ship in quick procession. They escaped with everything. All the game I retrieved from the traps, gone. Our hunting group had placed them along the outer edges of the archipelago weeks ago only for the fruits of our labor to be swept up in enemy arms.

Thinking that wasn’t enough, a couple of the larger ones bound me upside down to the main post with my own rope. They left me to drift in the icy endless water away from the safety of land. If I had been any closer to an outpost, surely someone would have heard me screeching after the attack. I was checking the traps farther away from the village however, and like an idiot neglected to bring any crew with me. I laid in the bed I made for myself and had to suffer the consequences.

My thoughtless actions would have been enough to end me, had my ensuing constriction not limited my options for a quick and easy death even further. At least before, I could have looked forward to the unforgiving slash of the workmaster’s blade for not returning with anything more significant than a black eye and a sob story. A sword would be quick and predictable. Hanging by my feet while bleeding from the head was disorienting, fathoms more painful, and was taking entirely too long to finish me off. One thing I could be certain of was that my end was near. My life would likely end within the next half hour or so if nothing changed. I began to develop a mounting sense of grief for my own life. The future looked grim indeed.

In the ever changing balance of good and evil in the world, something decided at the last minute to tip the scales in my favor. A swift, shining beacon of hope pierced the deck, almost too fast for me to catch it through the haze of pain. Whatever shot down from the shrouded skies pin-holed my dark thoughts just as they came to a peak. I looked upwards as best I could through the fog, sensing a mass above the ship. _Allies?_ _Perhaps my requiem would come another day._

The most sickening screech I’d ever heard rescinded any drop of relief that managed to creep into my head. So much for the hope of this being a possible rescue. How short-lived respite could be in a world like this… in a world with them.

_Dragons._

A sleek and weighty harpoon had been shot at the ship’s deck… an anchor for something hovering above. I couldn’t begin to imagine the newcomer’s intentions. Whoever aimed the harpoon had so accurately impaled the wood that it could hardly have been accidental. What puzzled me further was the obvious presence of at least three or more _extremely_ dangerous dragons. The distinct flap of wings echoed down. I heard them clearly even with the heartbeat in my ears threatening to deafen me. Their snaps and snarls caused me to see white at the edges of my vision.

Adrenaline was a luxury I did not have. It was replaced with cold, blistering fear that bristled through the nerves at my temples. My numbed hands scrambled for purchase against the mast in a last-ditch attempt to regain control.

_They were descending._

One was, at least. Not that it was any more comforting a thought. I heard claws scrape against the chain attached at the end of the javelin, travelling upwards to whatever devilish aircraft hovered above me and my cursed ship. This dragon was heavy, but lithe. Every movement was controlled, every muscle bound with carefully restrained energy. I smelled its smoke before my eyes met its horrifying visage. Tusks the size of Surt’s flaming sword slid forwards out of the fog, iridescent yellow gaze scanning the surface of the deck until they landed on my sorry form, strapped up like a prized ham seconds from passing into the Ether.

I could barely manage a whimper as it slithered towards me. Its movements were almost impossible to perceive, but I felt its weight rock the ship as it darted near. Long ivory tusks trapped me on either side, snout shooting hot molten breath into my blood-wetted hair. The look in the beast’s eyes was feral and hungry. If I hadn’t already been in the throes of delirium, I could have sworn the thing was sneering at me. Its scaly red mouth opened to reveal a long fleshy tongue dripping with acidic saliva. To my horror, it pressed the offending organ forwards to slide across my bloodied forehead. A deep rumble barreled through the animal’s chest.

_I was about to be dinner._

Just as I readied myself for the terrible grip of impossibly strong jaws around my skull, a sharp ringing vibrated through the air. No, not quite ringing… this sound was lighter. _A whistle, perhaps?_ My tortured brain couldn’t hear or think clearly anymore.

As quickly as the dragon draped itself over me, it tore itself away, pulled backwards like a giant deadly marionette. I was jolted by the sudden roar it projected upwards, as if in response to the unidentified whistle.

The chain jostled a second time, suggesting another passenger. My uninvited fire-breathing guest sat expectant on the other side of the ship, still as stone. I looked upwards, anticipation consuming me. The pull on the chain was lighter than before. A small sigh left my lips, hope sparking in me that the next guest would come without scales or wings.

The figure that arrived from the metal stair was leagues more perplexing. Impressive, considering the last stranger I faced was a dragon three times my size. What shouldn’t have made this visitor unsettling was that he was undeniably _human_. Hooded and strapped with weapons, sure, but human nonetheless, no matter how threatening in appearance. He boarded with a silent tap of his boots, exuding rugged elegance. I tried as hard as I could to focus on him through my blurred vision. He scanned the deck of the ship, assessed the surroundings. Most likely trying to find something worth looting. That’s when he noticed me and finally turned my way. He wore a mask over the bottom half of his face. I wasn’t sure if this was to protect from the cold winds or to conceal his identity. All he offered were two piercing blue eyes that detachedly scanned my form, measured me up.

A small scoff came from his covered lips. The stranger seemed amused by my predicament.

_At least someone was having fun._

I couldn’t accurately speak to him as my voice had retired long ago, but I tried to communicate distress anyway.

 _“Pl-please…”_ A hoarse prayer came scratching out of my throat. _“…help…”_

There was no response. No verbal one, anyway. He straightened his posture, glanced back to the dragon. Why the creature hadn’t tried to attack this man was anyone’s guess. It had been sitting idly since he descended. The cloaked stranger clicked his tongue and flicked a slim gloved finger towards me.

The dragon advanced again. Ice filled my veins. I closed my eyes, bracing for the final blow that would release me from this cruelly prolonged nightmare.

A deafening rip filled my ears. In a strange twist of events, my head hit the ground below. My body fell limp around the base of the mast. It took more than a few moments to realize what happened. The rope fell around me, destroyed by razor-sharp claws. I looked up at the dragon before me in surprised awe. The look was not returned, thankfully, as its yellow eyes were fixated on the stranger instead. I could only assume he had control of this beast through some sort of divine power. The sudden curiosity that theory sparked was waylaid by more pressing thoughts. I was now free of my binds.

With the freedom came pain as my numb extremities filled with blood, sense returning to my nerves.

A silent shriek of agony tried desperately to escape my mouth, but all I could do was lay there and writhe in a drying pool of my own blood. Every movement stung. Previously unfelt frostbite had threatened to take my fingers and bits of my face, only edging on the precipice before it took them completely. I was left with its burning remnants wreaking havoc on my flesh. I had some sense of balance again, but the consequences of being upended for so long started to take effect. Feverish over-swelling of blood in my head caused spotty black dots to scatter around the edges of my vision as my body fought to even itself out. The world spun around me like a windmill.

My unlikely savior came to stand next to his dragon and peered down at me through a shadowed gaze. There was no sense of pity coming from him. I was grateful for his mercy, nonetheless. I didn’t want to question his motives. In that moment, I was just happy to be spared. Future penalties for all this could wait for later when my body was healed enough for the indulgence of worry. The workmaster was the farthest thing from my mind, the entirety of my frame buzzing with ache as it attempted the first steps of recovery.

The stranger moved out of my field of vision suddenly, but I could hear his soft steps as he explored the rest of the ship. If he’d been hoping to find supplies, he was out of luck. I felt a pang of guilt at the thought of not being able to repay this person for saving my life.

His dragon followed behind him and I was left to twitch in peace. For minutes all I could hear were items being moved around, boxes being opened, metal clanging. It was a welcome distraction from everything else ripping into me. I couldn’t lay there forever though. I tried to move my arm, receiving a stab of pain in response. The next limb I attempted was a leg, getting about the same indignant reply. I grit my teeth to endure it. This would take some work. I cycled through each limb; fingers to elbows, toes to ankles and knees. It wasn’t unlike articulating a puppet. Before much longer, I was able to roll my spine into a sitting position. With much effort and sustained ache, I moved side to side to pop the joints in my hips and rolled my shoulders. I was regaining flexibility at least. 

Not sure if I should venture far enough to stand yet, I wheeled myself around to see if I could spot the strange man (and more importantly keep tabs on his dragon). He was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear shuffling under the deck. My attackers had nearly cleaned out the hold already, so I doubted he would find anything of value. The pillagers aimed for my on-ship weapons and stole them first. When they realized I had animal trappings, they decided they might as well take the proverbial goose for the gander and cleaned me out completely. _I was in for a flogging when I returned home._

The foreign figure came up again, woven sack thrown over his shoulder. As I expected, it was light. If he found anything it was likely old herbs and minerals collected from past voyages I hadn’t managed to store away on land yet. A small token compared to the other things I originally planned to bring home.

My unspeaking company didn’t seem startled that I managed to sit myself up, but he took pause to consider me. The dragon slithered up from the depths of the ship and rested at his side. They seemed very in tune to each other in a way I wasn’t sure I wanted to investigate yet.

“Thank you…” I held back the bloody cough stuck in my throat. My voice was clearing up but still retained a gravelly edge. “For… saving me.”

Silence was all I received at first. The stranger snapped his fingers, flicked a thin wrist skywards. The dragon immediately mounted the chain and crawled up to whatever vessel they arrived in.

Eyes trained on the disappearing figure of the beast, I almost didn’t notice the man sliding his hood and mask down, revealing a shock of white hair and a long, sharply contoured face. I couldn’t help but shudder under his unfeeling stare.  

“Do not forget a favor, but never say _thank you_. It does you no good to be indebted to strangers.”

His voice was magnitudes finer than expected. Heady threads of an accent rolled on his tongue, suggesting he was from the Northeast. This only stoked my growing curiosity.  

He didn’t linger for conversation. With a loud crack of wood, he retrieved the harpoon and fastened himself to the chain. Another sharp whistle lifted him through the fog. His form swiftly disappeared, leaving me to sit in shock.

I listened to the flap of strong wings drift away until I could strain no harder to hear it. It was then I considered what the stranger told me. Oddly sage words coming from someone who took habit in looting wayward hunting ships. I got the feeling he hadn’t originally intended to do that however, or even allow me the privilege of knowing his face. I counted myself lucky.

For a while, I sat in the gloom and formulated a plan. The aching gash on my head didn’t help at all. I could be honest and tell the workmaster I had been attacked, pray he became angrier with the pillagers than with me. I had the injuries to corroborate this story. If needed, I would travel South and check traps down the entire border to make up for what was lost. I was a hard worker but this would set me back trust-wise.

Before I could overthink what awaited me at home, I set a course and began the process of finding my way back. I had drifted for several miles but I was a seasoned traveler. With any luck, I could return before nightfall.

 

* * *

 

The port at _Göteborgs skärgård_ was swathed in the dim light of dusk by the time I reached its stony shore. The Elfarsker archipelago was where I worked, slept, and did my best to survive. Who knew how much longer I’d have for _that_ after regaling the day’s events to a master who was more bite than bark.

No one was waiting for me at the dock but I hardly expected otherwise. It would take a glacial change in priorities to have anyone notice I was missing, even if I had set adrift for days. The only way to get the attention of the villagers was with pertinent information or matters that affected the collective. Tell them food is missing, and they’ll raise their pitchforks. Tell them a lowly game hunter hasn’t been seen for days and they’ll ask, ‘Which one this time?’.

I tied the ship down and set anchor. With any luck it wouldn’t drift away too and cause me even greater grief. The cabins outside the Great Hall where the workmasters and their company resided wasn’t too far inland. It would be a short walks distance if I hurried. I stumbled over my blistered feet trying to get back before sundown. Expending myself when I was already thoroughly bushwhacked wasn’t wise but I wouldn’t risk further punishment for not reporting back as soon as possible.

When I neared the prodigious row of houses I heard voices. They came from the large cabin that housed the workmaster and higher members of the hunting crew. The familiar thunk of ale mugs being knocked together escaped through the cracks in the double doors out front. They were most likely gathered for dinner. _Perhaps the master would be in good spirits with food in his belly._ The torches kept lit on either side of the cabin doors cast flickering shadows that covered me when I curled around the side of the building, slipping in through a door near the back where firewood was kept. I was already in deep trouble and didn’t want to cause any further interruption by entering the front.

Once inside, warmth enveloped me. The large hearth at the core of the cabin ventilated heat around the entire building. It seeped through my clothes, soothed every ache in my weary bones.  

This relief only lasted a short bit, as usual.

“ _Oy!_ Where in Hel’s gates have _you_ been?” Came the deep bellow of the workmaster, who was seated at the head of the dinner table in the main hall. A dozen other eyes turned to face me. “We expected the captures back ‘ere six hours ago!”

“S-Something happened,” No point in beating around the bush. I fought to keep my voice from shaking. “There were pillagers scouting in the Northern regions. I couldn’t fight them off… they took everything.”

I saw shock and horror spread on the faces of fellow hunters at the table who heard me, but it hadn’t reached the master’s ears properly.

“Speak up, _narhat_. No one can hear you for yer mumblin’.”

A few of the others chuckled.

I felt my nerves splinter.

“The traps, I checked them all, but… a band of foreign Vikings raided the ship. Robbed the whole yield. There was nothing for it, I—”

The master slammed his fist on the table. Everyone ducked their heads.

“ **What did we tell you when ye sent off?** Twenty crew! _Twenty_ crew members available, and ye _still_ went alone! It’s because of yer _daft head_ they cleaned you out. Half the village could go hungry now!”

“I didn’t anticipate them! I’m sorry, sir, they just came out of nowhere!” My voice cracked despite myself and I coughed hard, trying not to balk when small specks of blood came out on my hand.

“ **ENOUGH**! I won’t have ye beggin’ for pity, _rat_.” The master’s hulking mass stood from the table, crossed to me in three short strides. He poked a strong finger into my chest to make sure I paid attention to his following words. “You’ll go without pay for the rest of the week. If I hear _anything_ of you pleadin’ around for extra wages from people who _actually do_ what they’re good for, I’ll have ye flogged in the middle of the village square.”

Like the fool I was, I protested before he turned back to the table. “But that’s a whole week’s wage! How will I eat? This can’t be the only way to pay for what I’ve done—”

My voice died in my throat, his ringed fist engulfing the tender flesh of my neck.

“ **CEASE YER WHINING**!” I could barely wheeze as he yelled into my face, lifting me by the neck and throttling me like I was nothing more than meek poultry.  “If you value yer life you’ll take the lesson you’ve been given! Before I hand you a more _permanent_ one!”

I was dropped into a heap on the cobbled floor, voice box fractured and jugular bruised enough to show in the morning. A hand-shaped reminder to never defy that which feeds you. The master returned to the head of the table, seating himself with a heavy _thump_ as an eerie silence replaced the jovial thunking of ale mugs. A couple hunters at the table winced in pity of my situation, but others shook their heads, clearly annoyed they’d have to work extra hard over the next month to regain the yield that was lost.

I’d been told often my ambitions exceeded my means. There was no better example of this than when I left the port thinking I would be fine on my own. I should have known not to trust the seas, especially around hunting season.

My presence was forgotten when one of the newer huntsmen attempted to change the mood and began a story of an expedition he’d supervised recently. The attention went to him, and I fell into the shadows once more. I picked my wrecked body up from the stone and crept back out through the door I’d come.

The warmth of the hearth was gone and quickly replaced by icy night air. The moon was waiting for me, extending a small mercy by lighting my walk back to the inn where I lived. How I would manage to keep that roof over my head was uncertain with my pay being docked for all of seven days. A whole cycle of money down the drain, along with my health. I was sure without extra funds to pay for a healer I wouldn’t be back to a manageable physical state for at least two days. It would be impossible to keep up with everyone else at the port or out on hunts without allowing my injuries time to heal. Even harder without the motivation of getting paid at the end of the day. I shivered, my resolve threatening to crack.

I’d have to make it somehow. I’d come too far to let the small life I had slip through my hands.

The inn wasn’t as warm as the crew’s cabin, but it was enough to keep everyone comfortable. In the dinner hall, food was being served. Wafts of the meal tempted my stomach, but I knew I couldn’t afford to buy a seat among them. Rhiannon, the innkeeper, noticed my arrival from her stationary perch near the hall’s entryway. I saw a smile warm her dark features, dimples obvious even in the dim light. She liked to keep watch of things and standing there gave her a perfect view of the front walkway, the stairs, the balcony, and the doorway to the kitchen. I couldn’t have crept in without crossing her honey-eyed gaze.

“ _Well well well_ , what have we here? Long night?” She smiled crookedly, but it fell when she saw the dried blood matting my hair. She came close and inspected my face. I was too weak to protest her touch. The lines on her face deepened further upon discovering the unhealed gash across the right of my forehead. The cut deepened the further it went into my hairline, making most of the damage hard to see but no less painful. She clucked her tongue. “If you young hunters don’t treat your blasted wounds you’ll drive me into old age with worry. Come, I won’t offer this a _seventh_ time.”

I laughed fondly despite my crushed windpipe. She’d already fixed me up several times before, just as she’d done for many other reckless adventurers. Rhiannon enjoyed boasting of her strict master-of-the-house nature but always accommodated those under her roof, whether they be stranger or family. I was pulled by my wrist into the kitchen. The smell of warm food was doing a number on my restraint. I considered sneaking a few freshly baked hot buns, but the thought was short lived. Rhiannon sat me down at a baking table, hurrying off in a million different directions to retrieve what she deemed necessary for my cleanup job. The cooks paid her no mind, focused more on getting food to residents than anything else.

“Alright, let’s see that nasty cut then.” She returned with a plethora of familiar objects, including but not limited to: a washcloth, a hot tin of soapy water, a small tea bag of medicinal herbs, multiple lengths of bandage material, and a horsehair comb.

I obeyed her every word, always humbled by her ever-present kindness. She turned my head over and over, wiping the crusted blood from my temples and hair. The water stung due to the soap, but its warmth was welcome. I hadn’t realized how badly the wound ached until Rhiannon began to heal it. She placed the bag of herbs into a filter and let it steep in a mug for me to drink while she finished cleaning the wound.

“Thank you, _min vän_. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for all the things you’ve done for me.” I smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. “The day I’ve had could weaken even the strongest of men.”

Rhiannon looked at me with sympathy, tilting my chin upwards with a gentle nudge. Her forgiving eyes swept across the purpling flesh of my nape. “You don’t have to tell me, _käraste_. If I had the muscle I would beat that workmaster of yours into the next century. What happened this time?”

“They came with no warning. There were so many of them…” I closed my eyes, not wanting to remember the attack but needing so badly to tell the tale to a supportive ear. “Plunderers. I was out checking the traps without a crew. They took everything I’d collected, as well as all the weapons on board.”

_I neglected to tell the master that part, thank the Gods._

“Those devils don’t know when to stop!” Rhiannon raged in her seat. “From the Western seas, I’m guessing. They have more wealth and bounty than all the islands in Elfarsker, what could they possibly hope to gain by raiding a small hunting ship?”

I shrugged. “It could have been a rogue group. They didn’t seem to have a system, just looted the ship and left me to die. Bound me to the mast upside down with my head nearly beaten in.”

“Thor’s hammer… I count myself lucky to be in your presence, then. How did you return? I don’t think I’ve met a soul who’s survived an experience like that without the aid of a crew.”

“Oh! This truly is the strangest part,” Only a good mystery could cause the excitement that burned in my gut at the thought of it. “I was adrift, lost to the world. I could feel Hel’s cold hands pulling my soul out through my feet. I didn’t think a living creature was around for miles, when the most bizarre thing happened.”

“Get to it, then!”

“A _dragon_ , Ms. Rhiannon. A beast bigger than an _inglenook_ boarded my ship from above.” The look of incredulity on her face was priceless. “I could bet there were more too, but they never showed themselves. I thought if the elements or blood loss didn’t take me, this animal surely would. But it wasn’t to be… this man, he appeared out of the fog, where the dragon came from. It was so odd… he had complete control over the creature. If he hadn’t reigned it in with whatever celestial power he was gifted, I can be sure it would have ended me right then and there.”

“Wait a moment. This man you speak of, did you recognize what dragon he kept with him?” Rhiannon had a look of suspicion on her face that unsettled me. “Did he reveal himself to you?”

“Well, not at first, no. He came wearing dark leather from head to toe, mask and hood concealing his face.” I wouldn’t be able to forget that face in a thousand years. The dragon was a different story. I wasn’t raised in a dragon hunting village, so I never saw use in getting familiar with them. Unlike dragon hunters, all we game hunters cared to learn was how to avoid them. We didn’t actively seek them out, delve into their biology, attributes or behavior. We were familiar with the most common species, where different types lived, and what to bring on a hunt if you want to defend yourself. To identify his beast would require someone with a larger vocabulary and much higher understanding.

“The dragon he kept can’t be named by me, but I’ll never forget it. He somehow got it to free me from my binds. It was then that he revealed himself. All paleness and shadow, short and unruly hair, gaze stronger than the metal of _Mjolnir_. I can see it plain as day in my mind. No one can forget a face like that.”

“Skies above,” Rhiannon stood, running her hands through her dark braided hair. “Lands and seas, you must have crossed paths with the _natt raseri mördare_ … you’ve survived not one but _two_ deadly events in the same day!”

“What do you mean? Do you recognize him?”

“ _The_ _Night Fury killer_ , you dolt! _Grimmel the Grisly!_ The man who’s slain every Night Fury in the hemisphere! He’s the most insidious dragon hunter known to man and he _boarded your boat_.” Rhiannon looked both parts horrified and intrigued. She sat back down, an air of wonder reaching her eyes. “Why on earth did he spare you?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue. He left as soon as he came, took only a small bag of leftover refineries. No offense taken, by the way.”

“Forgive me, I misspoke. It’s just… Grimmel isn’t exactly known for his mercy, be it human or creature he’s extending it to.”

This description seemed about right. His presence hadn’t been warm, just calculating and perceptive. A fisherman looking down at the catfish on his hook. I got the feeling my survival had been decided on a whim. For fun, even. A man like that probably had the whole world at his disposal.

Why I hadn’t heard of him until Rhiannon’s explanation was my own fault. I didn’t converse much with others or indulge in news of world events. All the stories and legends I’d been told were the same ancient folklore everyone knew. _Perhaps I should get out more._

After drinking Rhiannon’s curative tea and letting her bandage me up, I took my leave. My room was the last on the upper hallway, on the side of the building that overlooked the bay. As soon as I opened the door and saw my bed I felt cool relief wash over me. I crossed to the desk near the large circular window, moving my pencils and what few pages of special drawing paper I had left to make room for my coat and boots. I turned to collapse into my bed when I suddenly heard something hit the floor.

Two warm, freshly baked hot buns had fallen out of my coat pocket when I laid it down.

_Rhiannon, that motherly little sneak._

I tried not to feel guilty as I laid back in bed and ate the delicious gifts I’d been passed. How she managed to get them onto my person without me knowing was a puzzle. To her credit, I was rather disoriented and had been since the altercation on the water.

When my belly was full, I slipped under wool covers and looked to the window. Past the curtains, a full moon shimmered over still water. The sea was so calm now that I could hardly believe the horror I experienced on it today. Such was the nature of a hunter’s work. Danger lurked at every corner. To be a Viking was to experience that risk every day.

A passing thought about the Night Fury killer caught me in my deluge. _Grimmel the Grisly_ , hm? He didn’t seem too grisly at first glance.

Of course, most things don’t look the way they really are. I could feel the impression of something much darker behind those eyes. Even safe in bed, a stream of shivers ran up my sides. I pushed the unsettling feeling away and fell into a much-deserved slumber soon after, dreams chased by lingering thoughts of hooded strangers and tusked dragons.

Knowing Grimmel’s reputation didn’t stop me from wondering (or hoping) if I would see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact! the "advice" grimmel gives the reader in this chapter is part of Orkney folklore. saying 'thank you' is seen as acknowledging a debt owed, and it is never a good idea to owe an unspecified debt to any of the Good People.
> 
> **Vocab:**
> 
>  **Surt** (Surtr in Old Norse) - One of the jötunn. He was an ancient fire giant who waged battle against the Gods.  
>  **Göteborgs skärgård** \- the Gothenburg Archipelago in Sweden.  
>  **Elfarsker** \- the Old Norse word for Gothenburg, mentioned in Norse sagas.  
>  **Narhat** \- mild Danish insult. literally translates to "fool's hat", suggesting that you are not only as dumb as the fool, but just as dumb as the hat the fool wears.  
>  **Min vän** \- "my friend". platonic Swedish term of affection.  
>  **Käraste** \- "love / darling / dear". Swedish term of affection.  
>  **Inglenook** \- a large hearth / fireplace typically found in the middle of large halls. its an English word, but has Scottish background.  
>  **Natt raseri mördare** \- translates to "night rage killer" in English, but serves as a rough Swedish phrasing for Night Fury Killer.
> 
> (forgive me for any mistakes, i'm relying on google translate and folklore articles for help here. i'm mixing danish and swedish for no real reason other than access to certain folklore and backgrounds to be represented in the text. the reader resides in old sweden, but i like to think many languages are spoken in and about the archipelago, even though its most likely historically innacurate, but so are a lot of things in here. please bear with me i'm stupid)


End file.
